After Dark
by Ali Flagg
Summary: After the movie so Emma is now Anna. Anna has settled down with her husband, John Murdoch. They're happily married and like to spend time at Shell Beach. Then Anna meets a strange man who opens her eyes to a different side of things. Mr. Hand/Anna R&R plz
1. Chapter 1

Anna always had an aversion to darkness. The night time made her feel uneasy. She hated not being able to see as well as she could during the day. The cool dampness of the night air made her feel like she was suffocating. Part of her problem was an overactive imagination. She could easily imagine killers lurking in shadows, making her pick up the pace and sprint to the bus stop. Even standing under street lights didn't help much

But no matter how dark the night was, Anna always enjoyed visiting the river. There was a little flight of stairs which led to a landing. In the middle of the landing there was a bench, flanked by two street lamps. She loved sitting on the bench to watch the water and think. Often times, Anna's mind wandered to her husband, John, who loved the river, or any body of water, even more than she did.

John was having a love affair with the ocean. They made trips up to Shell Beach whenever they could, often on Anna's days off. John was constantly in the water: swimming, boating, and fishing. It was hard to get him to leave, and often they had to run to catch the last bus back into the city. John loved to come to the river landing as well. He said he had fond memories of the place, but never specified what. Anna tried not to let that bother her too much. She wanted to live in the moment with John, creating memories all their own. What was the point of dwelling on the past?

"Beautiful, yes?" A voice behind her made Anna jump. She spun around and saw a man in a long black and tailored overcoat. An expensive looking fedora sat on his head, which she could see had no side burns of any sort. He was probably bald. It was his piercing blue eyes that caught her attention immediately. The man smiled a moment, and then motioned at the bench. "May I sit?"

"Of course!" Anna said, a bit warily. The man sat on the other end of the bench, leaving space between them. In her head, Anna was glad. If he had sat right beside her, she would have made an excuse to leave.

"I like watching the city lights on the water," the man was saying. "I often come here to think."

"I do too!" Anna exclaimed in the friendly voice she used with customers. "I find the water soothing."

The man smiled again. "I myself do not enjoy water. I prefer being alone, having time for myself. People rarely come here so late."

Anna nodded in understanding. She knew what it was like to get sick of the water and could sympathize with not liking it. "I got off a late shift," she said almost remorsefully, as if apologizing for interrupting this stranger's alone time, "I wanted to come here before going home."

"Do you live close by?"

"No, actually. I have to take the Shell Beach bus home. We live in the middle of my work and the beach."

The man turned to look at her better. "We?" His tone was polite.

"My husband and I."

The man inclined his head. "Ah."

"My name is Anna. You are...?"

"Hand," the man replied, offering to shake but not a first name. "Mr. Hand."

She shook his hand, gloved in black leather. "Pleased to meet you."

Mr. Hand stood up slowly, as if it pained him. "Back to you, Ms. Anna. I must be off. Maybe I'll see you some other time, yes." What should have been a question was said like a statement. Anna found herself agreeing, telling him to stop by the landing tomorrow. Mr. Hand tipped his hat to her once, revealing her assumption about his lack of hair was correct. She watched him stride off, his steps purposeful and oddly graceful. Then she checked her watch. Her bus would arrive in ten minutes. Gathering her purse, Anna hurried to the bus stop.


	2. Chapter 2

The next night, Anna found Mr. Hand sitting at the river already. She sat beside him with a cheerful greeting. The moon was out that night, giving everything a silver wash. They exchanged small talk but mostly watched the river.

"You seem to be very lonely," Anna said suddenly, surprising herself. Mr. Hand glanced sideways at her. He rolled his neck from side to side, as if loosening up for something strenuous. "In a way, yes." The last letter came as a slight hiss, as if he had caught the word delicately between his teeth to drag it out. "There are not many people like me," his tone became confidential, admitting to her something he had refused to admit to himself.

"You're perfectly likable," Anna complimented sincerely. Mr. Hand gave a painful smile, much different from the night before. "I don't think that is the problem."

Anna tilted her head to the side, allowing her hair to fall over her shoulders. "What is the problem, then?"

Mr. Hand became silent. He looked away from her, out over the water and the moonlight dancing across it. Anna winced internally. Had she stepped over some boundary? Mr. Hand stood up, his long coat flaring around his ankles. "I should go," he murmured. 

"Did I offend you?" Anna stood as well, it was only polite.

"No," Mr. Hand's voice became silk, objective to calm her discomfiture. "I have an appointment to keep."

Anna's heart sunk. She had been enjoying her time with this mysterious man, despite the two of them being almost complete strangers. There was something about him that reminded her of John, and she found it familiar.

Mr. Hand held the crook of his arm to her. "May I escort you to the bus stop?"

Anna took his arm, flushing slightly. John would often walk with her the same way. It made her feel a little silly; such an old-fashioned gesture was out of place in a hustling and bustling city. Still, she allowed Mr. Hand to walk her to the bus stop. Delivering her safely under a street lamp, Mr. Hand tipped his hat and said good night. Anna rode the bus home, a childish grin on her face. Her new acquaintance's mannerisms were strange but endearing.

That night, John asked where she had been. "Just down by the river," she replied and it satisfied his curiosity. For some reason, a nagging feeling at the back of her head told her it wouldn't be smart to tell John about Mr. Hand. Her husband might get jealous, and she didn't want to start a fight with him. Best to keep it a secret until John wasn't so stressed from work.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks, Mr. Hand began to show up at the movie theatre where Anna worked. Sometimes he brought her coffee from her favourite shop, two creams and one sugar, just the way she liked it. One time he brought her a single flower, a small blue one with tantalizing cup-like petals. She had blushed furiously and giggled over it like a schoolgirl. She pressed it when she got home and a few days later got it laminated on a dove coloured strip of paper with a cute poem printed on it. She used it as a book mark.

John didn't notice anything. But that didn't bother her. They still went up to Shell Beach, but Anna was finding herself thinking of what Mr. Hand was doing without her. She couldn't imagine him at home. She tried once, but couldn't even begin to think of what he wore underneath his black coat. The idea of him in a wife-beater and boxers like John in the mornings was so absurd it almost made her laugh out loud.

Months had gone by and Anna was flipping through a magazine when one of her co-workers, a young thing named Rosa tapped her shoulder. "Anna," she squealed, "Mr. Hand is here to see you."

"Really?" Anna skittered down the hallway that led out of the ticket booth to the entrance of the theatre. Mr. Hand was indeed there and cradled in his arm was a large bouquet of flowers. Anna darted back into the hallway. Her heart was pounding and she turned to Rosa, who had accompanied her out of curiosity.

"What's the occasion?" Rosa asked, amused to see her normally composed co-worker so flustered. Anna shook her head mutely. "Well go out there and see him!" Rosa exclaimed, nudging her out.

Anna took a few breaths to steady her giddy nerves. "Mr. Hand!" she called out. He turned to face her, a huge smile lighting his face. It was in strange juxtaposition with his dark attire, but Anna thought he had one of the most amazing smiles she had ever seen.

"For you," Mr. Hand presented the bouquet. Anna took them and laughed embarrassedly. "What's the occasion?"

"We met six months ago, yes?" Mr. Hand touched the brim of his hat, "At the river landing. Remember?"

Anna nodded, breathing in the flowers' aroma. John had never gotten her flowers, even when she hinted heavily. He always bought her chocolate. Mr. Hand had picked up the subconscious (and sometimes purposeful) hints she dropped and bought her the very bouquet she would have picked for herself.

"Come to the landing tonight, yes," Mr. Hand insisted with his unusual cadence. "I have another surprise for you."


	4. Chapter 4

The flowers were put in a vase and left at the theatre in the ticket booth. Plenty of customers commented on them, saying how lovely they were. One elderly man said with a wink that only a man in love would put effort into buying such a nice arrangement. In fact, the old man's remark had sparked feelings of guilt in Anna's mind. Had Mr. Hand developed feelings for her? Had she been leading him on, despite having a solid marriage? Or... had she started to fall out of love with John and _into_ love with Mr. Hand?

Standing at the river landing, leaning over her the railing to look down at the water, Anna felt that maybe Mr. Hand was beginning to mean more to her than just a friend. She heard someone coming down the concrete stairs and recognized the steps to be her friend's. She didn't greet him, instead she waited. One of his gloved hands came to rest on her shoulder.

"Anna."

She turned and smiled. Mr. Hand had taken off his hat. "Anna, I've never told you my first name."

"No, you haven't." She wondered where he was going, but was thrilled to finally become privy to his full name.

"I have no name, but I do have the memories of your husband."

Anna blinked. "What?" His statement didn't register. Mr. Hand sat heavily on the bench. He looked exhausted, sickly. Anna sat beside him, putting a hand on his knee. Her brow was knitted with concern and confusion.

Mr. Hand turned his gaze to the sky. Evening had crept up on them; the fiery sun was finally setting. "Anna, when I first met you some years ago, your name was Emma. Your husband had been missing for three weeks and was a prime suspect in a murder case."

Anna didn't reply. She removed her hand from the man's knee.

"And I was hunting your husband. Not as a police officer, but as a Stranger. Your husband, John Murdoch, has the ability of my people to 'Tune'."

"What are you saying?" Anna rasped, her voice nearly failing.

Mr. Hand put his hat back on. "I am not from Earth, nor is this place Earth. Anna, this is an isolated city. I couldn't keep the truth from you any longer."

"You're crazy!" She jumped to her feet, eyes wide and face pale.

A muscle twitched in Mr. Hand's jaw. He stood to face her, his palms towards her in a defensive stance. "Anna, listen, please."

She backed away from him, shaking her head. "No. No, no, no. You're crazy. Are you schizophrenic and never told me? Are you off your meds?"

"No, Anna-"

"A cult! Is that it?"

"No."

Anna shook her head again, mind wheeling for an explanation. "Look, get away from me. I don't want to hear it. I thought you were a nice guy. Is this like, a joke or something? Are you trying to freak me out?"

Mr. Hand growled in exasperation. "Anna, can you let me explain?"

She stopped her babbling. Her eyes were wide as a child's watching him. "Mr. Hand, if you want me to trust you, can you tell me your full name at least?"

He touched his face for a beat, pinching the bridge of his nose. The movement was exactly as John would have done it with the elbow cocked at the same angle and the eyebrows furrowed the same way. For a brief moment, Anna could believe that her friend had all the memories John never spoke of.

"I have no name," Mr. Hand finally intoned. "But I have come to identify myself as Murdoch J Hand," a wry smile, neither endearing nor attractive, twisted his face. "A play on your husband's name. I found it suitable, since I own his memories."

Anna felt like she was floating in a bubble. Things were becoming surreal. "What does the "J" stand for? John?"

The man uttered a sharp, barking laugh. "No. I fashioned that for myself. Murdoch Jared Hand."

The two stood facing each other for a few minutes, silence stretched out like a void. Normally Anna felt herself gravitating towards him, wanting to be with him. Now, with the disclosure of his bastardization of her husband's name and the demented claims about the city, Anna wanted to flee. But deep-seated politeness kept her there. A touch of sentiment for Murdoch J Hand as well, but Anna pretended it wasn't there. "Mr. Hand," she started and then paused. "Murdoch."

He looked at her, the depth of his eyes unsettling her for the first time. She noticed how sickly he looked again. His face was thin and he looked lean beneath the jacket. "You don't feel comfortable with my name," he murmured.

"It's my name too," Anna looked down at her clasped hands, "Sort of. Mrs. John Murdoch."

Murdoch Hand stepped once towards her, closing the gap between them. Anna was startled, but didn't flinch. She could feel the warmth from his skin. His hand came up; she noticed numbly that he had removed his glove. She closed her eyes. His pale hand rested on her cheek for an instant. His long fingers trailed down to the back of her neck, beneath her hair. Anna moved her eyes beneath the thin lids, but didn't open them. She tried to sketch a picture of what was happening in the blackness. His hat would be pushed back, not removed. The brim would brush her forehead. She would be able to feel his warmth before his physical touch.

The brim of his hat bumped against her forehead, and pushed up as he came closer. His lips pressed against hers, tentatively at first. He was warm and soft. When she didn't resist, the kiss deepened. He tasted sweet, like he had eaten a fruit she couldn't name. He pulled her in closer with the hand on the back of her neck, placing the other on her waist. Anna's arms circled around his neck and she opened her mouth to his.

He broke away abruptly. His chest was heaving, his eyes large. Anna grabbed him by the shoulders, alarmed. "Are you okay?"

Murdoch sucked in lungful after lungful of air. Slowly the heaving stopped. "I... Something..." he gestured vaguely with his hands, one gloved and one not. "Something happened. I felt something." Suddenly his face lit up. "That... that was an emotion, yes."

Anna dropped her hands from his shoulders. "What? You've never... felt? Is that what you're saying?"

"Rudimentary emotions. Frustration, fear. Anger. Satisfaction. My people never had use for the others. That's why this city was created. We needed to find the human soul." He bent swiftly, picked up his glove. He slid his hand back in, wiggling his fingers until comfortable.

"We stole people's memories. We took them, mixed new ones. We injected them in people, moved the city. Moved people! Created every possible scenario we could think of to answer the question _"Is a person the sum of their memories?"_ We thought that was the key to humanity! Yes." His expression grew with fervour, an old obsession coming to surface. "Your husband, dear John, told me once that we had looked for the soul in the wrong place," he tapped just above his eyebrow. "And he was right. I realize our error. Humans are not just the sum of memories. I have John's memories, his boyhood and what he should have become. But I was not human." He stopped, looked at Anna levelly. "Until now. Anna, you. My feelings for you, how I react around you. You've made me individual. I am human."

Anna's heart ached. She knew she loved Murdoch Hand. In their brief kiss, she allowed her buried emotions to show, and he had felt it. She could see he was sick and it hurt her. His rant was moving, but it made no sense. He was mentally unstable. It hurt.

He could see the doubt and pain on her face. "Anna," he held a hand out to her, "I can prove it."

She grasped his hand tightly. Anna's heart began racing. It told her something was wrong before her brain realized it. There was no ground beneath her feet. She flailed in a moment of panic, a cry bursting from the lips Murdoch had just kissed. He squeezed her hand once and her panic turned into frantic disbelief. "Jared..." she exclaimed, mixing up the names momentarily. She corrected herself. "Murdoch... this is unbelievable. How is this happening?"

The soles of their shoes came back into contact with the ground. Anna lifted each foot one at a time, as though making sure she was stable. "See?" He said, "Everything I said was true. That was Tuning, yes."

Anna's knees gave out. Her head was swimming and her vision blurry. "You were serious. There's no other city but this one?"

"There are others." Murdoch's pale face flushed infinitesimally and he kneeled beside her, touching her face once again. "But not here. My people took you- all the inhabitants of the city, except those newly born, from a planet called Earth."

Anna pushed her face into his palm, nuzzling it. The leather was as warm as his skin and just as soft. He helped her up. "I'll take you home," he mumbled. "Sleep on it. There was a lot to take in." Anna leaned on him as they walked the long way to her house. Murdoch Hand assumed that she wished to spend time alone, and would not want to take the bus. He was correct. The thought of taking the bus made Anna feel claustrophobic. So many people jammed into a space. Like a city jammed together in outer space.


	5. Chapter 5

Soft morning light crept in the bedroom window. It fell across Anna and John's faces. It was 7:00am. John shook himself awake. He lifted himself up on his elbows. Anna was still sleeping. Her hair fanned out across a pillow, making a dark halo around her head. Her face was smooth and untroubled; although John had felt her start awake at least twice during the night. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Her green eyes opened into slits. "Morning."

"Its Sunday," John kissed her neck, grinning against her. "Let's go down to Shell Beach!"

Anna rolled away from him, burying her head into the blankets. "I don't feel good," she moaned listlessly. "I think I'm coming down with the flu."

John tugged the blankets away from her face. "Babe, are you okay?"

"I just want to sleep," Anna pulled the blankets back. "I'm sorry, John. You go to the beach, okay? Take Daniel, I know he likes the beach."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she called from deep in the covers. "I'll be fine. I'll call Mrs. Canneday from next door if I need anything, okay?"

John left reluctantly. He slouched around the bedroom, putting off leaving until Daniel finally called the house to see if they were going or not. With prompting from his wife, John packed a lunch and left for the day. Relieved when he was gone, Anna crumpled into bed. She shut her eyes and tried to sleep.

The night before danced in her head like a bad dream. Mr. Hand revealing his name, the crazy conspiracies, their kiss, the floating. Murdoch had made them float. The city was isolated in outer space. Now that she was thinking about it, Anna couldn't think of the city's name. She couldn't remember one time leaving the city, except for going to Shell Beach. She couldn't think of a time when she'd seen a map of the world. _That's because there isn't a world,_ Anna thought morbidly,_ there is only us. No way out. It's all an illusion, a trick. I don't have parents. John isn't my husband. But he is. I remember meeting him at the pier. I remember getting married, falling in love. Our first night together. _What was the other thing Murdoch had mentioned? John could do Tuning or something?

There was a knock at the bedroom door. "John, I'm fine," she called miserably. "Go back to the beach. You'll disappoint Daniel."

"Anna, it's me."

She jumped out of bed and flew across the room, wrapping a bathrobe around herself and belting it quickly. She eased open the door and peered through the crack. Murdoch stood in the hallway, still wearing a long black coat and had his hat clutched in his gloved hands. "Murdoch," she opened the door to let him in. She tried not to feel self-conscious as his eyes travelled once over her body. He stepped into the room but shied away from the sunlight. Anna noticed his discomfort and closed the blinds before he asked.

"What are you doing here?" Anna asked with her back still to him. She watched him in her peripheral put his hat on her dresser. He removed his gloves, folded them neatly and placed them beside the hat.

"I wanted to see how you were doing. You aren't angry with me, yes?"

Anna's hands curled into her hair, fingers working to the scalp. "No, I'm not angry. I'm confused and... I don't know what to think."

Murdoch's hands wrapped around her waist and he hugged her tightly from behind. Anna twisted in his grip to push her face into the collar of his jacket. Her fingers worked up the jacket as they had into her hair. She fumbled with the clasp by his throat. It came loose, exposing the white flesh of his neck and collar. Words died in Murdoch's throat when her lips touched the tender skin. She felt his vocal chords vibrate then come to a halt. Instead of trying to speak again his breathing quickened. Anna waited to see if he would start into more gasping convulsions. When he didn't, she continued to unbutton the long coat. He shrugged it off when she finished. Underneath he wore a shirt styled similar to the jacket. The shirt came off much quicker. Murdoch was soon kissing her back; his mouth was hungry for her taste and warmth. His hands were as clumsy with the belt of her bathrobe as hers had been with the clasp of his jacket.

This was what Anna wanted. It occurred to her in a passion-clouded thought that she didn't care if everything was an illusion, as long as she could keep Murdoch J Hand. Soon they fell onto the bed, greedy for each other.

Afterwards, tired and quite satisfied, Murdoch and Anna fell asleep in each other's embrace.


	6. Chapter 6

It was getting close to sunset. Anna was reluctant to let Murdoch leave the bed. John probably wouldn't come home for a few more hours. Regardless of her attempts to lure him back to bed, Murdoch quickly dressed himself. He looked impeccable in his black apparel but his absence from the bed left her cold. Anna retrieved her discarded bathrobe from the floor and bundled in it.

She stood beside him at the bedroom window. They watched the sun go down together. Once darkness started to settle, Murdoch gathered his hat and gloves. "I must go," he told her. "The sun's down and your husband will return soon, yes?"

"I guess so."

Murdoch kissed her again. It was gentle and tender, far different from the avid kisses during their frolic in bed. "I'll see you tomorrow. I'll come before your shift ends."

Anna rested her forehead on his chest. "Alright."

He tilted her chin up. "I love you."

Anna hugged him tightly. "I love you too."

She let him out the backdoor which opened onto an alley. He strode away, head held high. Anna had expected him to slink away on the watch for curious neighbours, but his walk was proud and measured. She went into the kitchen and put a kettle on for tea.

It was late when John arrived home. He had stopped and bought a book of poetry, chocolates and some incense that Anna liked. He shrugged apologetically, saying he wasn't sure what to get her in case she really was sick, but Anna assured him she liked the gifts anyway.

They laid in bed together, Anna reading the new book and John scribbling away in a journal. When she marked her page and settled into the blankets, she could still catch Murdoch's scent trapped in the fabric. She wondered vaguely if John would notice. She shivered and got a strange feeling in her stomach, thinking of both men. It felt peculiar to think of Murdoch Hand by his first name with her husband, John Murdoch, right beside her. It also gave her a weird feeling to think that she had had sex with both men in the same bed.

It wasn't guilt that she felt. It was more like vertigo. A strange paradox. Two very different men with the same names and memories. Anna retreated into her head, considering why she had fallen for Murdoch over John.

Sometimes John acted like she was a completely different person. She noticed a few times that he struggled with her name, as if he wanted to call her something else. Although, if Murdoch was right (which he most certainly was, considering what had happened), her name used to be Emma.

Another thing was that John was not always truthful. He had never told her specifically what his work was. She only knew that it was government work (_What government? We live in a single city_, she thought cynically.) He had never told her about his childhood, or his past. She had never met his family.

And then there was his obsession with the ocean.

In all honesty, John had become boring.

Murdoch was interesting. He was mysterious, intelligent, witty and charming. He was handsome and frankly, much better than John in bed. Murdoch knew how to make her happy. John could only keep her content.

_Maybe Murdoch can take us away from here,_ she thought excitedly,_ with his powers. Maybe he and I could escape to Earth, where ever that is. We could go off on an adventure together._


	7. Chapter 7

Murdoch kept his word. He arrived ten minutes before her shift ended. As soon as Rosa spotted him, she hustled Anna out the door, promising she could close up alone. As Anna was getting her jacket, she paused, one arm in a sleeve. "Rosa," she said quietly, "you know I'm married. Does it bother you that I'm... seeing another man?"

Rosa tilted her head to the side, thinking for a moment. "No," she said finally, "it doesn't bother me. You're happier with Mr. Hand than you are with John, I can see that. And frankly, I think you should do what's best for you." She smiled brightly. "Just, please, be sure you know what you're doing. Don't leave John for some fling that will end as soon as the forbidden factor is gone from your relationship."

Anna nodded. She thanked Rosa again and left out the employee doors. She met Murdoch in the lobby, who touched her cheek affectionately. They ended up at the river landing again, one of their favourite spots. They sat at the bench, holding hands. Anna rested her head on Murdoch's shoulder.

"I think we should leave," he murmured suddenly.

"Leave the city? I thought we couldn't."

He kissed her forehead tenderly. "I think I can get us out, yes. But we cannot tell your husband." The word husband stuck in his mouth and was spat out like a rancid bite of meat.

"I wouldn't anyway," Anna said, "but out of curiosity, why not?"

Murdoch's hand tightened around hers for a moment. "He would not be pleased to know that I'm still alive. I can imagine him trying to kill me."

"He wouldn't," Anna gasped. "No, he couldn't."

Murdoch smiled faintly. He was smiling a lot more than he had ever before, and part of him was glad. He had always been cynical, even as one of the Strangers. Anna had softened him. He had explained to her on their walk to the landing what the Strangers were and the extent of their powers. He told her of the battle between John and the leader of the Strangers. Anna found it hard to believe that her husband— mild, boring John with and obsession with the ocean, harboured such powers. But she hadn't believed that Murdoch Hand had those powers either, and he had proved her wrong.

"When will we leave?" Anna asked. She didn't bother asking how they would leave. She trusted Murdoch had a plan. In her mind, she thought with relief that they were leaving. Living with John was becoming stifling. They hadn't so much as hugged in ages, and sleeping in the same bed as him was torture.

"Next week," Murdoch said. "We'll leave next week."

"How much should I pack?"

Murdoch shrugged. "As much as you would like. Although, Anna, I think... could you take out money from the bank? As much as you can, John will be fine without it. He can fend for himself, or make more."

Anna nodded. "Alright."

Murdoch walked her home soon after. They stood outside the house, just out of view of the front window. The lights were on inside. Murdoch was reluctant to come closer, in case John was watching for his wife. Anna kissed him suddenly, passionately. He held her warm body close to his, feeling her wildly beating heart beneath the swell of her breasts and her full lips against his. It was hard to let Anna go, but he knew that if John thought something had happened to her, he'd tear the city apart looking for her.

She gave him a subtle wave before letting herself into the house. Murdoch watched the door close, cutting her from view. He pulled his hat farther over his eyes and walked swiftly away. He was planning their departure.

Since discovering his humanity, Murdoch J Hand realized that his sickness was abating. He used to have a strong repugnance to sun and water; they both burned his skin like acid. As well, he had been dying. John knew it when they saw each other for the last time and had let him live because of it. John thought that Murdoch Hand wouldn't have survived much longer after the destruction of his race.

That was not the case.

Murdoch Hand, despite his sickness, set out to find Anna. The first few months after John let him live, he hid away. He stayed deep underground where the sunlight would never find him. He rested and regained his strength. And then he worked on finding Anna. At first, he didn't know why he was trying. He simply knew that he had some instinct to do it. He thought that it was trace emotions left from being imprinted with John's memories. After finding her, he realized that it was emotions of his own that were developing.

When he fell in love with her, his sickness began to disappear. Their first kiss brought an apocalyptic rush to him. Originally, he was an alien being living inside a host body. As he had told John once, they used the dead as vessels. A newly dead corpse, so fresh it was still warm, re-inhabited by an alien. When Murdoch became individual, not part of the collective memory, the alien part of him was reabsorbed by the human body. It had been extremely painful, which he had tried not to show. He theorized that he had grown a brain. That was certainly what it felt like at the moment. A blazing pain, a sudden build-up of pressure and then more pain.

When he moved his head, it felt different. His thoughts were different too, no longer linear. It was more like clouds of thought. He didn't think in sentences anymore. And all the memories he had absorbed from his people, the collective memory they shared, dissipated. He was left with the memories of John and the ones he had gathered himself.

He was free.

The one thing he had kept from his alien heritage was Tuning. He was glad. Otherwise, he and Anna would never be able to escape the dark city. He did think, however, that the power exerted to leave the isolated city would drain him completely. It would be the last time he could ever Tune. They would have one chance at escape.

It was definitely worth the risk. Murdoch even knew where he would take Anna away to. They would return to Earth, the planet she had been abducted from. Now immune to sun and water, Murdoch felt it would be the safest place for them. John had no idea where the planet was, and had no knowledge or resource to find it. He could never come looking for Anna or Murdoch.

That suited Murdoch perfectly.


	8. Chapter 8

John Murdoch had left Mr. Hand alive because he knew the creature was dying. They had both known it. The changes John made to the city were sure to kill Mr. Hand off, even if his imprinted memories didn't finish the job.

Sometimes John dreamt about Mr. Hand and the other Strangers. They were nightmares usually. There was one reoccurring dream where John was running after Emma through dark, twisting back alleys. Every now and then Emma would look back at him with an expression of terror. In this dream he could never figure out why she was so terrified of him until he would catch his reflection in a puddle. Instead of seeing himself, it was the face of Mr. Hand. The alley would begin to break apart and John would open his mouth to scream.

Then he'd snap awake.

These dreams came rarely, however. He discussed them with Daniel whenever they occurred and both of them agreed it was simply his subconscious processing all that had happened and spitting it up into his sleeping mind.

While John wasn't overly concerned with Mr. Hand coming back from the dead, he was becoming concerned about Emma. She had been growing distant from him over the last six months. It was painful. John knew he hadn't been paying her proper attention, but he had a lot on his mind. He had told Emma that he worked for the government, which wasn't exactly true, but it wasn't a lie either.

He was keeping the city together. It was close to how the Strangers ran the city before everything that had happened. There was a time when everyone fell asleep and John occupied himself doing slight repairs around the city. He never moved anyone but he did his best to make sure everything in the city ran smoothly. He kept the streets free of potholes, no buildings fell into disrepair, and everyone had heating, water and electricity. John did his best to keep the city's inhabitants safe and well taken care of. He felt that because of his powers, it was his responsibility.

Daniel agreed with him, yet cautioned him not to work too hard. He said that John was apt to rupture his brain if he tried to do too much while Tuning. John was powerful, but he didn't have anyone else to help buffer the power like the Strangers had. John's strong human emotions made him greater than any Stranger had been, but the lack of thousands of minds to keep everything in control made things more difficult for John.

There was something about Emma that John was losing. When he had awoken prematurely from Daniel trying to imprint him, he had fallen in love with Emma. After everything was over, she had become Anna. John struggled sometimes to call her by the right name. He sometimes got the chills thinking that she wasn't exactly the same person he had known. John also knew that even though he felt he knew Emma, their history together had been fabricated. Yet no matter how much John's brain rationalized it, his heart still said different things.

In all, it was confusing, but John worked as hard as he could every day to keep things perfect for everyone in the city. He did a good job, too.

Yet despite all that he did for the people of the city, things were not perfect for John.

During the day, while he was supposed to be at his "government job", John spent his time at Shell Beach. It was an obsession, he knew it, but he had to be somewhere to keep up the illusion that he actually worked.

It was a Friday night and in a dim pub and John rolled a half-full pint of beer between his palms. The glass made faint noises as it dragged over the tabletop. Daniel looked at him from over a menu. "Something on your mind, John?" he asked in the halting breaths that had become endearing.

"You made up Emma's memories, right?" John asked absent-mindedly.

Daniel put the menu down slowly. "Yes, why?"

"Could you tell me if she was cheating on me again?"

Daniel dropped his gaze and stared at his hands, which were clasped over the menu. He didn't like the undertone in John's voice, the rumbling anger and confusion. It worried him. What would a man with god-like power do when slighted? Walk away from the problem as a wise god would or would he destroy the root of the problem as a vengeful god would? "Do you think she is cheating?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

_Dear Lord._

"Something you need to realize," Daniel said carefully, "Anna's memories may be manufactured but _she_ isn't. She is her own woman."

John narrowed his eyes. "I know that," he snapped. "I'm not stupid. I just want to know the truth."

"The same way Anna knows the truth about you?"

Daniel regretted his words. John pushed the beer away and stood up. "I can't tell her the truth!" he snarled, "How can I?"

"I'm sorry, John," Daniel motioned for him to sit again. "Please. Talk to me about this."

Running his fingers through his hair, John sat. He shook his head and sighed. "I can't tell her the truth. Emma would think I'm crazy. And how could she look at me the same way afterwards? I can barely live a normal life without her knowing about Tuning, let alone trying to have a normal marriage if she knew."

"How much do you focus on her needs, John?" Daniel asked. His friend blinked.

"Her needs? What do you mean?"

Daniel gave a calculated shrug, one that said it was just a fleeting thought. "Every weekend you two head to Shell Beach. You spend hours on the water but Anna says on the sand, reading. Or she goes back early. Have you ever asked if that's what she wants to do?"

John was silent.

* * *

><p>Anna looked at her suitcase. It was the biggest one she owned and she had packed as much necessary things she could fit in it. There were huge stacks of money hidden in the clothes. When she had gone to the bank she was astonished to see how much money was in the savings account she shared with John. She had never really looked at it before; John dealt with the books and balanced their finances. Although she supposed this could have been a front to conceal what he actually did during the day when he claimed to be at work.<p>

She zipped the suitcase shut. It just fit. She lugged it to the front door. It hit the floor with a thud. The noise seemed to knock Anna out of a stupor. She rubbed her face a few times and sat at the kitchen table. Murdoch was coming to get her soon. The finality of the situation and possible consequences hit her all at once. A mix of emotion rose in her throat and tears were on the verge of spilling down her face.

Guilt was one of the strongest emotions she was feeling. John was going to be devastated when he got home. Her leaving was going to be completely out of the blue for him. She hadn't mentioned her unhappiness; she hadn't said a word about Murdoch. She hadn't even hinted she was seeing someone new.

A knock at the front door. Anna took a deep breath to calm herself and went to answer it.

Murdoch stood on the door step, still clad in black. He tilted his head to the side, reading the complex emotions on Anna's face. He gave her a sympathetic smile. Anna accepted the condolence with a smile of her own and ushered him in.

As Murdoch stepped in and removed his hat, Anna was struck by how much healthier he looked. His skin had lost the pale, sallow look it had when they had first met. He instead had the normal sheen and glow of someone who spent a moderate of time outdoors. There was some colour to his cheeks as well.

"You are ready, yes?" he asked, indicating to the suitcase.

Anna nodded.

* * *

><p>John began running down the street. A man had just entered his house.<p> 


End file.
